


drowning your demons in yesterday’s tears

by MultiFandomTears



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac JSchlatt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also not, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Karlnapity are so in love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Multi, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quackity has kinda been conditioned, They’re just a bit battered and bruised, no beta we die like schlatt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFandomTears/pseuds/MultiFandomTears
Summary: Quackity is happy. He’s with the loves of his life and he’s on his way to recovering. Then, Schlatt turns up as a ghost and he has to see him. He needs the closure, no matter how unhealthy it is. He just can’t tell his fiancés.——This work is entirely fiction and is about the characters, not the people. If any content creators say they are uncomfortable with this, I will be taking it down.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Past!Quackity/Schlatt with a tiny bit in the fic
Comments: 18
Kudos: 227





	1. Chapter 1

Quackity knows he shouldn’t even entertain this idea. It’s entirely bad for him and, if Karl or Sapnap were here, they’d surely have something to say about the healing process.

Or some shit like that, you know?

It’s just that he can’t bring himself to stop, can’t stop his feet from moving, can’t stop the way he’s being pulled, pulled, pulled. If he’s being honest, it feels a hell of a lot more like he’s being dragged.

He’s being dragged down the pathways, across the grassy hills. They’re steep but not too steep. 

And he knows.

This is bad for him, like so bad, super bad, the bad that makes him want to curl up in the corner (probably the corner of the shower if his past experiences have anything to say) and bite at his bottom lip until it starts to bleed, doing anything he can to hold in his loud and ugly and stupid little sobs. 

He does it often. Often enough that he knows how many footsteps he will hear before the bathroom door opens. He does it because they can’t know. Sapnap and Karl can’t know.

They’d understand, sure, why he was doing it. But they’d try to comfort him and when it gets that bad, when he struggles to breathe, the last thing he wants is comfort. Their love language is touch. Sometimes, Quackity does not want to be touched, no matter how softly they do it, how gentle their voices are.

It doesn’t matter.

Because Quackity recognises the soft touches and warm expressions of love but he also recognises the sharp pain that so often follows. The slaps, the punches, the ones hard enough that they often left marks, little ones in the shape of the rings that adorned the hands. He recognises the tears and the bile that rises up in his throat.

So it doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, he thinks none of it matters because, in the end, Quackity always seems to be so weak.

He was weak enough to endure what he did out of fear, fear of the unknown, fear of losing love.

He was weak in that he couldn’t even let his fiancés touch him to comfort him, when _they’re only trying to help._

He was weak because, even after everything, after his supposed healing process, after finding love, real love that didn’t hurt, he still manages to crawl back.

Schlatt was always so prideful. Quackity knows he’ll hold this against him, he’ll mock, he’ll prod and he’ll poke. 

_Stupid little Quackity comes crawling back to me. Where are your little boyfriends? I thought you were happy? You should have known you could never be happy. You’re worthless._

He can hear it now. It makes him sick to think about the drunken slurring, the harsh tones. Sometimes the bitter words were worse than the black eyes or the bruised ribs.

That’s probably why it’s so confusing for him now. This is a man who hurt him so much, whose death gave him relief, the man that Quackity shot with an arrow himself.

But he’s also a man that Quackity loved, that he adored, that he stood beside. He’s the man that Quackity used to live for, breathe for.

He was everything bad that Quackity had, but he was everything good too.

Schlatt used to be his everything.

And now he’s not.

Now, Quackity has Karl and Sapnap and they love him, they love him, they love him so much. They wipe away the tears and they kiss the once bruised skin. 

Schlatt used to kiss his bruises, used to tell him he looked pretty when tears welled up in his eyes. 

Quackity needs to do this. He needs this because he keeps finding similarities, he keeps linking everything back. He needs the shock to his system and he needs closure.

For the first time, he _wants_ closure.

It’s getting dark. Karl and Sapnap will be wondering where he’s gone. Wondering where he’s wandering off to. Quackity will probably feed them a load of shit when he gets back. It’s his wall of defence. Crack some jokes, swear a lot, never be serious. It’s easy to hide the pain then. It’s easy to laugh his flinches off, on the rare occasion that someone notices.

There’s a couple of lanterns around and Quackity squints in the dim light. He’s searching.

Apparently, he doesn’t have to search for long. 

An eerie figure stands there, hanging around where he’d been last seen.

Holy shit. Schlatt’s presence is a lot scarier when he can’t be killed. Can he be killed? He’s already dead. 

He’s already dead.

Schlatt is dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Totally and completely fucking dead.

“Schlatt?” Quackity called, his voice is croaky and unsure.

The figure turned his head, his eyes widening when he locked onto the person who called for him.

“Quackity?” Schlatt returns, and the pure joy on his face knocks the air straight out of Quackity’s lungs. “I’ve been wondering where you had gotten to,”

“I’ve been meaning to come and see you,” Quackity admitted, hesitantly.

He dragged his feet along the ground, moving closer slowly.

“I missed you,” Schlatt practically cooed, reaching his arms out.

The pull seemed almost magnetic and Quackity couldn’t help but move quicker, the gap between them shrinking until they are standing right there.

Schlatt is standing right there.

Glancing up, Quackity peered at Schlatt, his horns curled and standing proud, his typical suit and tie tidier than they ever were in life. There’s no stench of alcohol and there’s no anger in his eyes. It’s jarring. It’s Schlatt but without all the things that made him… _Schlatt._

There’s a strange sheen, shimmer, glow to the man. Is this what death and the afterlife is? Is it a beautiful lack of all your major flaws?

“Quackity, I’m so glad you came,” Schlatt murmured, an awe in his eyes that made Quackity feel so special. Schlatt was always good at that.

Schlatt gently moves his hand to grab at Quackity’s own. When it actually connects, Quackity’s breath hitches in his throat.

“But-“ he begins, his mouth dry.

“I know,” Schlatt says. “I’m a ghost and I shouldn’t be able to, but I can,”

Out of nowhere, Schlatt tugs Quackity closer, gripping him a tight hug, and Quackity freezes.

He freezes still, his entire body rigid and tense and waiting.

Waiting for a punch? An insult? Something.

“Schlatt,” Quackity manages, slightly muffled by the other man’s chest. “We should talk,”

Schlatt pulls away, staring into his eyes. It’s intense and it sends a cold jolt down Quackity’s spine. His hand lifts to gently take hold of Quackity’s face, the touch almost seeming delicate, reverential. Schlatt moves slowly but Quackity still does nothing. He does nothing, even when Schlatt kisses him, with passion and with force, but not with anger. Even when Schlatt tries to deepen the kiss.

Quackity is unresponsive and he knows this is definitely the worst kissing experience someone like Schlatt has ever faced.

His arms are clamped at his sides, fingers outstretched in surprise but entirely unmoving. He feels like crying, but whether it’s out of happiness, sadness, fear… he’s not entirely sure. 

The entire thing feels so familiar yet so foreign.

How can he be treated so lovingly and so carefully by the ghost of the man who once plagued his dreams, corrupting each one of them into the darkest of nightmares.

Schlatt has noticed that Quackity hasn’t moved. He’s moving away, he’s moving away, he’s moving.

“Q,” he breathes out.

“Please,” Quackity replies, stumbling back a step. “Don’t- please don’t call me that,”

“That’s what I’ve always called you,” Schlatt points out, confused.

“Not anymore,” Quackity insists, though he doesn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears. “That’s what Karl and Sapnap call me, they-“

Quackity cuts himself off, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Karl and Sapnap?” Schlatt queried, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. “Since when did they call you that,”

“They’re my fiancées,” Quackity choked out. “I’m engaged Schlatt, I can’t believe I- I shouldn’t have let you kiss me,”

“You’re engaged,” Schlatt sounded out. He seemed deep in thought.

A rising sense of dread filled Quackity, he braced himself for a hit, closing his eyes and tensing up.

It never came.

Cracking an eye open, Quackity spared a glance at Schlatt.

Schlatt was peering at him, bewildered by his behaviour.

“What are you doing?” Schlatt pondered, amused. “You look like you’re preparing for a fight,”

With that, the man lets out a loud laugh that echoes into the evening sky.

Quackity’s mouth drops open and he stands there gaping at him.

“I-“ he stammered. “I- well-“

“Are you alright?” Schlatt questioned, concerned.

“I’m sorry, I just, I knew you might be upset about me being engaged,” Quackity hurried out. “I just-“

“You didn’t think I was gonna hit you, did you?” Schlatt asks, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Quackity, I would never,”

Quackity feels like the wind was knocked out of him. He feels like he’s finally lost it, he’s finally gone insane. The silence seems so loud.

“You-“ Quackity forces out. “You would, you did,”

“I-“ Schlatt returned, pausing for a moment. “I did what?”

“You don’t remember?” Quackity questioned, incredulously, maybe a little hysterical.

“Remember what?” Schlatt queried. “Last I knew, we were husbands, we were happy together, we were in love. I’d never hurt someone I loved,”

“I have to go,” Quackity mumbled, moving away.

“Will you come back?” Schlatt requests, hopefully. 

Quackity wants to say no, wants to leave and never return, never see the man again. But, he feels compelled to say yes and he nods his head slowly.

“You promise?” Schlatt breathed out.

“I promise,” Quackity says, wincing at the very familiar sounds of devotion that seem to slip from his lips so easily.

And with that, he ran. He ran and he ran and ran until he reached the house he shared with his fiancées. With Karl. With Sapnap.

The home they made together.

He should feel the warmth and love and comfort. 

All he feels is guilt and dread.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Slight mention of blood in this chapter and an unrelated mention of accidental self-harm.

The first thing Quackity does when he gets home is run towards the shower. His skin is crawling, the ghosts of fingertips on his face and arms wrapped tightly around him. He feels dirty.

The water is ever so slightly too hot but he couldn’t care less. He’s almost tempted to shove himself in, clothes and all, but he pauses. 

Karl and Sapnap would question the soaking wet clothes.

Standing under the hot spray, Quackity tries his best to think of anything other than _him_.

He’d been so careful, so good, he was so happy.

His skin is red and stinging but he doesn’t care. It’s a nice distraction from the thumping in his head and the heartbreak that just won’t go away.

Why, after all this time, is he still so caught up in the enamouring enthrall that is Schlatt? The man was an abusive drunk, for God’s sake. It shouldn’t be hard to get over him.

It shouldn’t be, “ _shouldn’t”_ being the key word.

But Quackity doesn’t love Schlatt anymore. He is very much in love with Karl and Sapnap. And even though it is possible to love more than one person (they would know, wouldn’t they?), Quackity does not love Schlatt.

Maybe his subconscious loves the idea of Schlatt, is still clinging onto the love he once craved from the man.

That has to be it.

He’s so caught up in his emotional turmoil that, for once, he completely disregards any and all footsteps. It’s too late to do anything once the bathroom door is being opened, and time seems to move so slowly.

Quackity knows he must be a sorry sight, slumped against the wall, his skin pink from the heat, and the most dazed look on his face.

He wishes he could have spared Karl from seeing it.

“Q,” Karl murmurs, peering at him through the fogged up glass.

“Yeah,” Quackity croaks in response.

Yikes, that was rough.

“You’re all red,” Karl notes, concerned. “Is the shower broken?”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “Everything’s fine,”

There’s a wobble in his voice that absolutely gives him away. Karl is worried. He’s perceptive like that.

“You-uh- you need any help?” Karl asks, softly.

Quackity clears his throat, tries to answer, but he can’t think of anything to say, he doesn’t know- he-

Karl hesitates for a moment, before opening the door to the shower cubicle.

“Karl,” Quackity begins, his brows furrowing. “Your clothes, they’ll get wet,”

“It’s fine,” Karl assures, brushing it off. 

He steps in and he’s already soaked.

“What the honk?” Karl breathes out, taken by surprise. “Q, this is boiling,”

Immediately rushing to the water temperature knob, Karl turns down the heat, stopping to glance at Quackity.

Quackity can feel his limbs shaking and he feels like vomiting when he sees the look in Karl’s eyes.

They’re so full of sadness, but most of all, pity.

He can’t stand it.

Karl has this ability of looking just like a kicked puppy sometimes. It sends a knife through Quackity’s spine that threatens to have blood retching up, spilling everywhere. It makes him feel evil.

Quackity sees the physical shift when Karl comes to some unknown decision and the water is soon turned off entirely. He watches as his fiancé comes closer, holding his arms out wide.

“Can I- am I okay to touch you?” Karl queries, cautiously. “Are you hurt?”

“Please don’t,” Quackity begs. “It’s not you, I promise- Karl, I promise, I promise it’s not-“

Karl nods, bending and sitting against the wall, absolutely drenching his clothes.

“I know, Q,” Karl assures. “Don’t worry about me, my love,”

Quackity jerks his head in a nod.

“I love you,” Karl murmurs. “I don’t know if it helps or anything, but I love you so much, Sapnap loves you so much,”

An indefinite amount of time passes. The room is silent, even the dripping water has stilled in the time they have been sitting there.

Slowly, nervously, Quackity pries a hand away from where it once rested: clutching his knees to him. He drops it to the floor, trembling as he reaches towards Karl. Karl notices this, extending his own arm out, not taking charge, simply laying it there. It’s an invitation, not an obligation. It’s a choice. A choice for Quackity to make, one he appreciates dearly. Once, he lost his choices, he lost them. Here, with Karl, he has his own will, he’s not restricted or restrained.

Quackity trails his fingers over Karl’s hand, just feeling the soft skin, a comforting reminder of how little conflict the man seeks. Someone so filled with pure wonder, pure curiosity and so devoid of hatred. 

Karl’s breathing slows, his eyes following Quackity’s movements, the swirling patterns he has started to trace, the tension that is slowly seeping out of the man he loves.

Their fingers are intertwined now, Quackity’s grip tight and unyielding. He feels grounded, held down in the best way possible.

They both look up when they hear the door to their house opening and closing. Quackity frowns, concerned, contemplating shrinking back in on himself.

“It’s just Sapnap,” Karl whispers, scooting slightly closer. “Listen, he’s humming that song that’s been stuck in his head all week,”

Sure enough, their fiancé is downstairs, rustling about with something and humming out the low notes of some catchy tune. 

It’s so overwhelming and domestic, to be surrounded by love, the warmth and familiar presences of their home. Quackity is immediately comforted by the fact that they are all home and safe. 

“Karl?” Sapnap shouts, muffled by the walls of the house. “Q?”

Sapnap’s voice gets closer. He’s upstairs now.

“We’re in the bathroom, Sap,” Karl informs him, only just loud enough to actually reach the man.

“The bathroom?” Sapnap replies, seemingly amused. “What’s going on in the bathroom?”

The door opens and Sapnap rounds it, now staring down at the pair. He frowns in confusion at Karl’s soaking wet state before immediately freezing at the sight of Quackity.

“What-“ he attempts, stumbling on his words. “Are you guys alright?”

“I’m okay,” Karl responds, attempting to calm the fierce protectiveness rising up in their fiancé. “Q is- well, we don’t know,”

“I think I’m okay,” Quackity comments, shifting his head and blinking up at Sapnap.

Karl strokes the back of Quackity’s hand with his thumb before slowly pulling away.

It’s hard for Quackity to stop his instinctive reaction. He so desperately wants to grab at Karl, keep him down on the floor and stay there for an eternity. He knows they can’t though, and he forces it down.

“Can you carry him, Sap?” Karl requests, now stood by the man. “I don’t think he should be moving about himself right now,”

Sapnap’s eyes are filled with concern and worry, shining in the light of the bathroom. He shoots Karl a strange look before turning his attention to Quackity.

“Can I touch you, Quackity? Sapnap questions, cautiously. He steps into the shower cubicle and approaches, crouching down to get closer. “You want me to carry you out of here?” 

Swallowing, Quackity shuffles forward and moves his arms, reaching out for Sapnap. Sapnap gently takes hold of his hands, helping him up slightly. Quackity manages to get to his feet and glances at Karl, who is now holding a large, fluffy towel. He passes the towel to Sapnap who unfolds it. Quackity stands still as Sapnap bundles him in the towel, and tries not to freak out as his feet leave the floor. He’s tucked securely into his fiancé’s arms and they leave the foggy room.

Sapnap takes him to their bedroom, Karl following them closely. It’s not too long before he’s placed on the bed and his fiancés are tugging pyjamas onto his limbs.

Karl tucks him under the covers of the bed, kneeling next to him and carefully threading fingers through his hair.

“You wanna get some sleep, Q?” Karl asks, quietly. “Sap and I are gonna make hot cocoa, then we’ll come to bed too,”

“I- um- I don’t want to sleep alone,” Quackity mumbles, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

“You don’t have to,” Karl replies, assuringly. “We won’t be long, I promise,” 

Quackity furrows his eyebrows ever so slightly, nodding and burrowing down into the bed.

When Quackity is alone, he thinks of the song Sapnap filled their home with moments ago. If he puts his energy into that little tune, the lilting notes, it stops the room from being too silent and empty. Quackity hates silence, which is why he’s always the first and last one laughing. He likes the peace and quiet, on the right occasion. But silence is so devoid of life, so unnatural, it’s eerie. He’d much rather hear the tiny scratches of Karl writing in his diary (even though he’d never share its contents) and Sapnap’s constant singing.

He doesn’t have to interrupt the silence for long. Quackity can hear Karl and Sapnap talking, even from downstairs. They’ve obviously hushed their voices, meaning they don’t want him to hear. It doesn’t quite work. 

“Karl, what the hell is going on?” Sapnap questions, sounding on edge. 

“I found him in the bathroom,” Karl begins to explain. “He was completely out of it, I had to turn the water off,”

“I thought we were supposed to leave him alone when he gets like that,” Sapnap reminds. “You said yourself you can tell he doesn’t want people around to see him in pain,”

“Well, I think we’ve left him alone too long,” Karl admits. “We should have been trying to stay,”

It’s quiet for a moment. Sapnap is obviously unsure of what to say.

“How do you know?” Sapnap queries. “Won’t we upset him more?”

“Sapnap, he was standing under boiling water,” Karl confesses. “Like absolutely boiling,”

“What?” Sapnap returns, confused.

“He was- he was _hurting himself_ ,” Karl breathes out, sounding devastated by the words leaving his lips.

Sapnap falters completely. That awful silence seeps in again.

“We can’t leave him alone anymore,” Karl states. “We don’t have to touch him to let him know we’re here for him,”

Quackity feels like screaming. Karl and Sapnap probably think he’s such a burden now. They’re gonna resent him because he needs fucking babysitting.

He only hears clinking of mugs and spoons after that, before the stairs make a tiny creaking noise. Propping himself up on his elbows, Quackity sits up slightly, smiling softly as the bedroom door opens.

Karl’s face lights up when he sees Quackity’s smile. He brings the tray of hot cocoa to the bedside table on Quackity’s right.

“Karl, you should get out of those wet clothes,” Quackity suggests, quietly.

His eyes trailing down himself, Karl glances back up again and smiles awkwardly. He begins to peel the fabric off himself, changing into warm and dry pyjamas, before moving to turn off the lights.

Sapnap comes to sit on his usual side of the bed, trying to meet Quackity’s eye. 

“Are you okay with us being near you, Q?” he asks, plainly. No pretension.

Quackity nods.

“Can you tell me, please?” Sapnap requests, hesitantly. “With words, I- we have to be sure,”

“Please get in bed with me?” Quackity practically begs. “I don’t want to be alone,”

It’s a heavy thing to say out loud, to admit to himself and to others. It’s his reasoning for a lot of things, especially in love. In his marriage to Schlatt, basically everything he did was because of one reason.

At his core, Quackity doesn’t want to be alone.

Karl and Sapnap shuffle into the bed, under the covers. They immediately migrate towards the middle, clinging to him. Karl’s leg hitches up, tangling in between Quackity’s own. Turning, Quackity faces Karl.

“Big spoon,” Sapnap murmurs, seeming fairly excited about the prospect.

Karl lets out an uncontained giggle.

Quackity feels himself being pulled back into Sapnap’s embrace, they’re all cuddled tightly together. One of Sapnap’s arms has snaked underneath Quackity, around his waist, the other is stretched out so that he can hold Karl’s hand. Karl moves impossibly close and Quackity wraps his arms around him.

His hands are no longer shaking, he’s no longer alone.

He wants to stretch this moment out forever, he wants to stay and bask in the warmth of the men he loves for all of eternity, where nothing can bother them, no one can hurt them, they are together and they are invincible.

Until the nightmares come.


End file.
